Impact (Book 1): Inbound

by Isherwood, E. E.

  She followed Asher, still not sure what to believe.

  Kentucky

  After returning from Roger’s place, Ezra settled down with Susan and Ethel. He didn’t have a house, or even a tent, but the boat dock provided a little cover, so he took the women there. He managed to get his gear off the lawn and onto the dock with him, then he became lightheaded from the smoke and had to sit down to recover. When he opened his eyes, it was daylight.

  “Holy cow!” he belted out.

  Susan sat bolt upright. “What is it?” She’d been sleeping on the wooden slats next to him, though her head had been on one of the cardboard crates of ammunition he’d rescued from the fire. Ethel was asleep nearby; her white hair contrasted with the olive-drab plastic gun case she’d used as a pillow. She was on her back, with her arms over her chest, though he couldn’t believe how uncomfortable she must have been.

  She’s a tough old bird.

  He took a few seconds to get oriented. His house was smoldering ash. The trees were a mixture of black husks and trunks stripped bare of leaves. The sun was low on the eastern horizon, and it was dim, like it was the winter solstice. Despite being the middle of July, and remaining hot and muggy like any other day, it seemed like the middle of winter. “I fell asleep, honey. I might have put us in danger.”

  She glanced around, sizing up the world in her own way. When finished, she pointed at Ethel. “She’s safe. I’m safe. We made it through the night. I’m sure that’s the worst of it.”

  It wasn’t possible to see Paducah from thirty miles away. He did see black clouds in the city’s general direction, strongly suggesting the disaster was ongoing. Ezra looked back to Ethel, at first pleased she’d made it with them, before he knelt down next to her. “I’m amazed she could sleep like that. Does she look right to you?”

  “Don’t wake her up,” Susan cautioned.

  He gently touched Ethel’s neck to check for a pulse, but her skin was cold and stiff. He adjusted his direction to face Susan though he didn’t need to say a word.

  “Oh, dear,” Susan replied. “I thought she was going to make it.”

  The woman had died overnight. It might have been the bad air, which seemed to knock him off his feet, or perhaps it was from a cause less obvious. Internal injuries. Exposure. An existing disease. He could think of a million reasons, guilt demanding he linger on one that was more personal. “I shouldn’t have told her about Roger until we were all safe. I think maybe the bad news crushed her spirit.”

  Susan came over and touched his shoulder. “You can’t blame yourself for this. You did everything you could.”

  Maybe he could cut himself a bit of a break due to the circumstances surrounding the meteor impact, but it didn’t change the fact two of his friends died in his care. He had a whole neighborhood of people around him, not to mention Susan. He needed to do a better job of assessing the situation.

  “What do we do now?” Susan continued.

  Before he could answer, his least favorite person in the world came out of some burned bushes on the side of his house. Despite being pretty much a war zone, the woman wore a nice white blouse with bright pink slacks, like she was at a business luncheon for cosmetics professionals. She wore sensible white sneakers, though they’d become gray with soot. Ezra groaned reflexively; the wicked witch of Happy Cove had arrived.

  “What does Babs want?” Susan whispered. Brenda “Babs” Bowler was the president of the subdivision association, which made her the tin-pot dictator of the otherwise idyllic and peaceful rural neighborhood.

  Babs looked around the back of the house like a surveyor, then spread her net a little wider until she happened to see him. “Hiya, Ezra and Susan. I’m sorry about your house.” Babs did not sound the least bit sincere, and she kept talking in her loud, nasally tone, even though Ethel appeared to be asleep. “I’m doing a walk around the neighborhood to see who’s still in their house, and who isn’t. You know, to keep everyone honest on the rules.”

  Ezra leaned close to her. “Stay here with Ethel. I’m not ready to explain a dead body on my property to someone like her.” He strode down the boat dock walkway and onto the grass. He had to walk all the way to Babs; she made no effort to come to him.

  “Who is that with your wife?” Babs asked nonchalantly.

  He whispered, hoping she caught on to the fact the older woman was asleep. “Ethel. We’re keeping an eye on her after Roger passed last night. He fell down his steps when the blast wave went through.”

  She nodded, still speaking in her normal, annoying volume. “Is Ethel staying with you? Does it mean no one is currently in their house?”

  He knew better than to answer her directly. She was as conniving as she was desperate to follow every rule in the subdivision covenants. It had made for many run-ins over the years. The latest was when he’d set up some of his camping gear in his backyard to dry it out, and she’d come over and said the rules didn’t permit temporary housing of any kind. She’d also complained about his house paint choices, the height of his boat dock, and the type of paver stones he’d used around his mailbox.

  “I’m not sure,” he said, allowing the half-fib to flow without remorse.

  “Well, we’ll have to keep an eye on the situation, won’t we?” She rubbed her hands together, then seemed to realize it made her look like the caricature of a witch. “What I mean is I need you to go around and do a survey of the subdivision for me. I’ve already done the three houses down that way.” She pointed to the shorter end of the street, “but right now I need to get up to the county highway because it’s filled with cars fleeing Paducah.”

  He never went out of his way to do anything for her or the other trustees, but this time he didn’t think her request was out of line. It made a lot of sense to know if the other residents needed help. They’d need to pull together, form a security team, and, for those like him who’d lost everything, need some short-term charity to get through. Not to mention he wanted to get Babs out of his yard before she found a rule violation.

  “Fine. I’ll help you.”

  Chapter 8

  Yellowstone

  Grace followed Asher into the visitor center, which took up the entire first floor of the Victorian mansion. The place had been designed to house dioramas of animals, glass cases of Native American artifacts, and informational maps of the nearby region of Yellowstone. There were four large rooms of touristy stuff centered around a small closet and workspace. A lone male ranger stood behind a desk, though there were so many people around, it was impossible to see where his line began. The dense mass of guests also made it easy for Asher to disappear from her view. Before she could give chase, someone shouted at her.

  “Another one!”

  The eyes of fifty people turned in her direction. She immediately saw herself as the last bacon-wrapped hot dog at the all-you-can eat buffet back home; she was a second ranger available to field their questions. She had to act to head off the incoming barrage.

  “I’m just a trainee!” she yelled as she shoved her way through the throng. Tourists reached out to her, as if touching her shoulder would cure their ills. All it did was knock off her hat, which she was forced to cradle in her arms for protection.

  Despite being so close to the end, she didn’t want to give up on Asher until he was in the care of a more senior ranger who could deal with things like shock and paranoia. The guy behind the counter would serve that purpose, but she avoided eye contact with him since she didn’t currently have Asher to hand over.

  “Trainee coming through!” she shouted as she went away from the desk, “Make a hole!”

  Grace managed to get into the back half of the house, which was another room filled with displays about the park, including a replica of a Yellowstone creek, complete with stuffed cougars, otters, and eagles. There were fewer people there. Nevertheless, one of them called out from behind her.

  “Miss Ranger. Stop.” The tone of his voice was commanding, and she felt compelled to ob
ey.

  She slowly turned back to find the mining guy walking toward her. The middle-aged man was dressed in a black suit, with a navy-blue tie matching the color of his truck. His wide chest, cropped haircut, and serious face made her think of those Terminator movies, and she gulped despite herself. She fought back and reminded herself to broadcast only confidence.

  I’m the one in charge here.

  She faced him with hands on her hips, like she was too busy and important to deal with him, but she’d spare some of her precious time. “Can I help you? I’m Ranger Anderson, and I’m in the middle of an important emergency response scenario.”

  The man smiled; it appeared practiced and forced rather than natural. “My name is Misha Gagarin.” If there’s one thing she’d picked up on in dealing with thousands of tourists in her first summer at Yellowstone, it was accents. He sounded Russian, with his name coming out in an elegant slur like Mee-sha, which somehow made him all the more menacing. “I saw you come in with a man, Asher Creighton. Shaggy hair. Cheap suit. Can you direct me to him?” His accent thickened. “I yam hees bru-ter.”

  Grace fought the urge to take a step back, but she held her ground and looked up at the guy, who was a head taller than her. “I did rescue a man, yes. His name was, uh, Alex Trebek, not Asher Creighton.” Her insides recoiled at her lack of creativity. Would the guy know pop culture enough to catch on?

  “Alex, yes?” he smiled. The guy was missing one of the teeth on the side of his mouth, making him look like he’d been in a serious fight, or perhaps played hockey back in Mother Russia. “Well, if you see him, I would still like to talk to him. Maybe he has seen Mr. Creighton; my companion is lost, you know?”

  “I’ll keep it in mind.” She allowed a one-step retreat. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”

  The big man nodded and stepped backward as if mirroring her. At the same time, they spun around and walked away. She glanced back once, wondering why he was in such a hurry.

  She trotted into the next room, sure “Alex Trebek” had to be there.

  Kentucky

  The new day brought more trouble for Ezra. He’d promised Babs he’d walk around and talk to the other residents, though his priority was Susan. She was fully recovered from her panic attack, but neither of them could live on the open-air boat dock for any length of time. They needed to find shelter, if nothing else to get out of the dust and debris falling like snow and fouling every open surface around.

  “What do we do with her?” Susan asked, pointing to Ethel.

  Having dead bodies around was a sure way to invite plague and disease. At the same time, he didn’t have the resources to do anything about it yet. His garage was ash, as was everything inside it, so he couldn’t even claim to own a shovel to bury her.

  “For the time being, let’s leave her here. She’ll be away from people, and hopefully being over the water will make it harder for animals to find her.” He had no idea if his idea was true, but it seemed logical. “We’re going over to Roger’s house to take care of his body, too. Then, you and I are both going to do a walk around and see what’s happening beyond our backyard.”

  They teamed up to carry the gun cases and the heavy crate of ammo he’d rescued from the fire. Looking back, he wondered if he’d done the right thing by going for the guns and ammo, rather than beans and butter. Normally, his bug-out bag would have food, a water purifier, and fishing equipment, as if sustenance was most important. He’d even prepared such a bag for his trip to Wyoming, though it was in his truck, which had become a charred shell inside his garage. In that critical moment in the fire, his selection of the gun cases and ammo seemed like the right call, and being armed and able to protect Susan reassured him he’d done it correctly.

  Susan carried one of the long-gun cases, as well as the first aid kit. It was the other thing he’d rescued from the fire, and for similar reasons. A good medical bag would be like gold in a disaster scenario, and he’d already used some of the sunburn ointment, so it had been a worthwhile rescue.

  They went in through Roger’s back door and stacked all their gear in his kitchen; he went right to the old-school landline phone.

  “I’m going to call Grace to see if she’s all right.”

  Susan stood nearby, nodding her approval.

  The phone rang and rang. Grace didn’t answer, nor did it take him to voicemail. The dead air happened a time or two in the past when calling her; he assumed it had to do with her remote location. He re-dialed a few times and found the same result. When it was clear nothing was going to change, he slammed the phone down a little harder than he expected. “Sorry.”

  “We’ll keep trying,” Susan comforted. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

  “Me, too,” he added. “For now, let’s keep ourselves busy. What are we going to do about poor Roger?” They couldn’t leave him at the base of his stairs.

  After hashing through ideas, they didn’t figure out the perfect answer. They opted to wrap the old man’s body in about ten blankets, and they dragged him out to his boat dock, for the same reasons as they left Ethel on their own dock. It bought them a little more time to find a proper, respectful solution for him.

  “I’m sorry, Roger,” he said, once he was in position.

  They stood out on the dock for several long minutes as ash fell from the sky. The overhead roof on the dock prevented most of it from reaching Roger, but a light dusting showed up on the material even in the short time they watched.

  “Let’s get inside,” Susan advised.

  With the dirty chore completed, he decided to break open the gun cases. “We’re not going outside unarmed, Suze. I don’t know what we’re going to find when we go house to house. This is serious business. People are going to be scared, and that makes them desperate, and dangerous. We’ve got to show them we’re capable of defending ourselves, should they have anything ill in mind.”

  “Ill?” she snarked.

  “Yeah, you know: they want what we’ve got.”

  She chuckled in a good-natured way. “These are our neighbors, Ezra. They aren’t going to threaten us.”

  He never said it out loud to her, but Susan’s city background gave her an overexaggerated sense of safety while out in the country. He blamed himself for some of it. They’d left the urban sprawl of St. Louis after the incident responsible for starting all her panic attacks, and once they got to backwoods Kentucky, he assured her nothing like that could ever happen again. Still, city folk moved to the country all the time, especially around the lake. Not every neighbor was neighborly, anymore. Babs was a perfect example.

  “Indulge me,” he said as he grabbed one of the Bushmaster AR-15s.

  “You know I always do,” she mused, taking the offered rifle. He thanked God for the millionth time he’d found a woman who understood him, and she was right about indulging him. She’d accepted the need to train on rifles and handguns. She didn’t complain when he spent hard-earned paychecks on ammunition, cleaning supplies, and more guns. He’d dropped a lot of money on making the right preparations for disasters which were unlikely to ever happen, and she’d gone along with it. To cap it off, she’d had the good grace not to mention all that expensive equipment was now ash blowing around their backyard. Any of those were potential flashpoints for a wife to hold over a husband, but Susan simply slung the rifle over her shoulder and followed him out the door.

  Once they were both properly armed, they walked towards the front of the subdivision. He wanted to start his survey at the beginning of the street, but he also wanted to see what was going on beyond their tiny kingdom.

  “It doesn’t look so bad,” he remarked as they made a right turn from Happy Cove on Happy Hill. The builders who’d created his subdivision made everything pleasant-sounding. As it was explained to him later, they used the technique to attract out-of-town buyers who believed the marketing about living in the country. Everything was happy when you lived on the lake, they said, and you’d be reminded of it on every street y
ou drove down.

  The two streets formed an L shape on the map, with the bottom of the L running along the shore of Kentucky Lake for about a quarter of a mile. That’s where his house sat; at least the ashes of it. The upright part of the L was Happy Hill, and even though the street was a little over half a mile long, it had fewer houses on it; everyone wanted to live close to the water. When they reached the end of the street at the top of the hill, there wasn’t a house around, and the forest was thick and dense because the lots weren’t cleared. Even so, the area wasn’t devoid of people; there were plenty of cars on the connecting country road.

  “Hoo boy, we’ve got problems,” he shuddered.

  The hilltop provided a wide view of the surrounding countryside. The near side of the old county blacktop road, closest to the lake and the subdivision, was lined with tall pine trees and tangles of smaller leafy trees. A giant cornfield was on the far side of the road, though it was no longer a quaint country scene; the gray ash made the corn look rotten. The short stalks were mostly knocked over, and a half-dozen black cows wandered through a broken fence line a mile away. That wasn’t what caught his attention. Babs had mentioned traffic on the county road, except she’d understated it by a factor of ten. There were hundreds of cars lined up, using both the lanes, and everyone was out of their vehicle, as if no one had moved an inch in hours.

  “I’m glad we brought the guns,” Susan whispered.

  Texas

  No one got through Petteri’s security cordon without being approved, vetted, and disarmed. Though corporate espionage was always a possibility given the stakes involved in running a billion-dollar company, he was more concerned about assassination attempts. After all, he was the face of the company and fancied himself more recognizable than most movie stars. Of course, people would want to kill him, to make themselves more famous. As a side effect of that screening process, he knew the background of everyone who walked through his office door.